Kiss it Better
by Emile120
Summary: A songfic of Kiss it Better by He Is We, however, the song is modified a good bit. There might be another chapter and even another version of this story if my muse for it kicks in again. c:


"Oh mudblooddd." Cackled a voice, it could only belong to one person, just one. Bubble gum sweet with the promise of insanity lacing each syllable, it was so distinct it didn't even make sense to Hermione.

Her eyes immediately flicked to the scar marring the inside of her arm, jagged and angry looking, she didn't even think it would become a silver color, like Harry's scar, it would always be ugly and bloodshot, a raw reminder.

A rasping gasp escaped from her throat. Her hand trembled and closed around her wand tight enough that she feared she might snap it in two. She knew where the exit was, now came the decision. Make or break. Fight or flee.

Bellatrix rounded the corner, something broke inside of her, and suddenly she was running. Legs aching beneath each step, but she just couldn't do it. So much for being a Gryffindor, all her vigor and bravery dissipated within a second of fear and she hated herself for it.

She ran and ran until her entire body was throbbing and numb and her mind was racing, and she was darting into the cover of trees.

_She could still be right behind me. She…_

A spell speed past her by just a fraction, snapping the old oak to the left of her simply, and it crumbled before her, groaning in protest as it crashed to the ground.

"Come out; come out, my nasty little mudblood."

_Oh god. No...Please no._

Sucking her lip between her teeth, she spun in a circle, eyes raking the circle of trees, her vision blurred and her heart thudding against her chest so hard it was agonizing.

She couldn't even tell which way _she _was now. Only a vague cackle in the darkness could tell her that Bellatrix was someone near, leering from the shadows that she belonged among so easily.

It happened in short a short second that she couldn't even blink, couldn't even scream or cry out or defend herself, and her knees were forced to buckle under her, slamming her to the ground hard enough that her teeth bit through her lip, blood spilling into her mouth and over her chin.

She refused to let tears spill, but it was getting hard to see with them welling up in her eyes.

She flexed her fingers forward, searching for something, anything, hoping and _praying_ that touching something would pull her from this nightmare, but after squinting her eyes together so tightly that it hurt, she realized that she was still on the hard, cold ground, and she knew things were about to get much worse. She could only lay there, half paralyzed by fear and half by the curse that still bound her.

"Oh dearie, you thought you could hide, didn't you?"

A boot slammed into the middle of her back, at least two of her ribs cracking under the full weight of Bellatrix, shoving all of the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping and wheezing frantically for air.

_Help…someone, anyone…please._

She meant to say it, was desperate to say it, but she knew it was a silent cry, and it wouldn't be answer anyway.

"I asked you a question…"

She gulped, trying to speak again, but no words would come out, she could barely breathe and she was choking on her own blood, how could she speak…

"I said, I _**asked **_you a question!" Bellatrix half shrieked.

"P-plea-"

"That doesn't answer my question!" This time it was a full out scream, so shrill and demanding that Hermione's already pulsing skull threatened to burst.

"Don't worry, you'll pay for it."

Bellatrix snatched up a fist full of her hair, tearing her violently away from the ground, even though the hex was still in play, trying to keep her there, it was actively snatching her against Bellatrix's hold on her. She could feel her hair pulling away from her scalp.

She breathed out a useless cry, unwanted tears streaming down her face endlessly by now, smearing dirt and blood over her cheeks and down her neck. She wanted to beg for dead, but at the same time, she just _couldn't_. Ridiculously, her pride still stood in the way, and she would face torture rather than be weak enough to try for the easy way out.

Moving too fast for her to register, Bellatrix had a knife, and she was being thrown back on the ground.

What they both were very unaware of though, was the silent, shadowed figure of a Draco Malfoy. At first he had thought of stepping up and helping his Aunt Bella kill of whoever it was, it was obvious reaction, to hide in the shadows was a cowardly thing, and besides, why would he hide from his own Aunt.

But that thought was stopped in its track when two things occurred to him.

His Aunt wasn't out for specifically killing, no…if she was, it would've been taken care before he could even get here and would be long forgotten by now.

Second was…well, that the person that was about to become victim to Aunt Bella's torture was Hermione Granger.

Hermione Jean Granger.

_He sits in his cell, and he lays on his bed._

_Covers his head and closes his eyes._

_He sees the glinting blade._

_And the coward, she ran._

How he knew her middle name, he didn't know, but it didn't even matter, didn't even strike him as odd, because all he could do was stare at the blood trickling down her throat. She looked so scared. Frantically and hopelessly scared, he had never wanted to comfort anyone more than he did now.

The scar on the inside of her arm was visible from where he was; with her arms sprawled out and her small hands clenched into fists…he remembered that scar, so well. She had looked just as scared on that night and he had done nothing to stop it. Absolutely nothing…

Bracing a hand on the nearest tree, he slides against it, working hard to remain silent and keep his balance at the same time.

His vision blurs and panic explodes in his chest as he watches his Aunt slide the blade over Hermione's throat, so casually it makes him shiver.

Hermione's mute, but Bellatrix keeps whispering inaudible things to her, he can see her face screw up in terror, but she doesn't even slip a whimper.

She's so brave…

And it's why she has always been better than him and will forever be better than him.

Because if _he_ was brave, he could save her right now…he could've saved her before too, and then that scar wouldn't be there in the first place, she would still be flawless.

That thought does catch him off guard, because before now, he's never even stopped to give Hermione anything more than the short scowl or rude remark, much less deep thought, nor has he ever felt any compassion towards _anyone_ either, but _her _suddenly, of all people, of all_ girls_?

Sure, she'd crossed his mind many times, and even more in those days when Hogwarts was still…just Hogwarts, before Dumbledore was killed…just before, everything. She'd grown into her body. Her cheekbones were dainty and her eyes were beckoning, even if he only could catch her gaze in those rare moments. Her bushy hair was not bushy anymore, it was cascading waves and silk. He had wanted to reach out and touch it at one point, but there was no chance.

They hated each other. It was natural for it to be that way.

Sure, she _had _crossed his mind, he would even admit to it openly, but what guy's mind _hadn't _she crossed. She was plainly beautiful.

Just then, his Aunt plunged that knife into her skin, right against her collarbone, dragging it in a straight line against that bone.

Hermione shattered, like a broken toy, like a piece of glass, like a bit of porcelain.

Her scream was sharp and heartbreaking and Draco sucked in a breath so hard it hurt, his fingers digging into the bark of the tree he had his weight against.

_Save her, do it._

_Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her._

His heart begged, but his head disagreed. His pulse was thrumming so loud he was afraid his Aunt would hear it alone.

_You're such a fucking coward. You're so worthless. You wouldn't have deserved her even if she did love you._

Hermione was panting, tears leaving silver tracks over her smudge skin, her back arched against the ground. She prayed she would pass out from the pain, or blood loss. It didn't matter.

Blood was leaking over her chest in thick sheets of unending scarlet, seeping into her clothes.

She was trembling so bad she couldn't even clench her hand in a fist anymore. She couldn't even manage a movement. Pain radiated over every inch of her body, but she knew Bellatrix wasn't done yet, she would enjoy this for as long as she could.

Before she even saw it coming, Bellatrix was plunging the knife into her again, but this time it was the other collarbone, and the same line was repeated.

And this time when she cried out, it wasn't so much a scream, as a screech for help, for this to be over, for anything. She only stopped when her throat was raw.

Senseless torture. What Bellatrix was doing had no point. At least with carving mudblood into her arm, she was making a point of _something._

And then Bellatrix stood and Hermione was so relieved that it was over, her head pounding so furiously and that aching pain is shooting through her limbs and her fingers and every bit of her body. She's closing her eyes and can feel the edges of her mind slipping away, when Bellatrix leans close again, right in her ear, her putrid breath wafting over Hermione's skin.

"Here's a little something to remember me by."

And she can hear crucio shouted into the night and the pain is finally so overwhelming that she passes out, finally fading from conscious.

_And in his arms is the bleeding love of his life._

_And she cries, kiss it all better._

_I'm not ready to go._

_It's not your fault, love._

She's dazed and in so much pain when she wakes up, and she's sure she's dying or dead, or just somewhere in between, but it still hurts,_ so bad._

But she's not on the ground anymore and it confuses her.

Her head spins so violently and her gaze in distorted, waves of throbs spreading from the center of her chest and echoing out over the rest of her. She wishes she could focus enough to figure out what's going on, because fingers are tracing her lips and tucking her hair away from her face, so lightly she doesn't really feel it at all. It's so comforting and it takes her mind off of the pain as much as she could ever hope for.

She rasps a breath, blinking rapidly, before squeezing her eyes shut.

_This could all be a trap. _

She realizes, the veracity of it slamming into her.

She's squirming away from the arms cradling her, but it just hurts so much and she can't manage it for long. Besides, those arms carefully pull her back.

"Shh…please don't. Please."

It's only then that she blinks up and she's sure it's a trap in that moment.

Blonde hair, silver eyes.

No, it can't be a trap. Draco isn't this gentle. He isn't. Never could be.

It doesn't make sense at all, and then she's sure she's dead and he's an angel.

He's going to make it better, she reminds herself, because he's an angel, he has too.

How Draco could be an angel, she doesn't understand, but everything is outlined in a glow, even as those waves of pain sweep over her, she's so tired and ready to give in, nothing makes sense to her.

She manages to lift a hand for a brief second, tracing her finger over the outline of his jaw, arm shaking, and she lets it drop back on the ground.

She finally lets herself sob, because it's over and it doesn't matter now, she can be weak if she wants to. She's dying anyway.

He's an angel…she's so sure of it.

"Kiss it better." She whispers.

He's been silent ever sense he reassured her back into his arms. He's just watching her, smoothing down her hair and trying to wipe away the blood that's coating her chin, as if it'll make a difference. But when she speaks those three words, he snaps inside, his heart hurting so bad he's sure he's going to die too, because this is his fault, and he could've stopped it, but she's asking him to make it better.

He can't deny her.


End file.
